Dream Me(46)

The houses in his neighborhood were neat, tidy, and small, but they were built precariously close to a busy street, with petite front lawns which provided hardly any buffer between the traffic and the homes. They looked older, built in the days when cars didn’t travel so fast, and people didn’t worry so much about a random car losing control and careening through their front door.

The fact that doors and windows were left open in most of the homes made me think they probably didn’t have air conditioning. This presumably explained why so many people were enjoying the late afternoon from tiny front porches, visiting with neighbors so close that a normal conversational tone was all that was needed to be heard by the person in the next home.

Smells of dinner on stoves wafted out through windows, merging with others to create one giant intoxicating aroma. We passed a house where the sprinkler was running on the front lawn for the delight of a small group of children who ran happily through its mist.

I was suddenly ashamed to be in LeGrand’s flashy red Beemer. It was too much in a place where people lived so modestly. It was too much in Mai’s neighborhood, or even mine, for that matter. I looked at it now as a bad joke, not the fun, sporty machine I had viewed it as only minutes before. I kicked myself for not bringing my dad’s truck instead.

We pulled up in front of Alonso’s house and saw the white truck in the driveway, the one that said “Cummings’ Emergency AC Repair.” LeGrand and I argued for a minute about who should go knock on the door. I thought I should because I’d met Alonso’s mother. LeGrand thought he should because he knew Alonso better than I did. We finally agreed to go together and leave Mai in the car because we didn’t want to overwhelm him. Mai wasn’t happy about it, wanting to see for herself his initial reaction, but she accepted the majority rule.

The door opened immediately and there stood Dee Cummings, the first person to show me a kindness when I arrived in Sugar Dunes. She looked at me for a minute, as if she was trying to place me, perhaps remembering my face but not the context of it. Then I saw the light go on in her eyes.

“How’re you doing?” she greeted me warmly. “Trout Lane, right? No problems with your air conditioner?” She glanced over at LeGrand, maybe trying to piece together his part of this puzzle.

“Hello Mrs. Cummings. Yes, it’s me, Babe Fremont, and this is my friend, LeGrand Buell, Alonso’s mentor partner in the tennis camp.” I couldn’t bring myself to refer to it as Friends Across the Bay. Every time I used that moniker now, I just heard Mai’s sarcastic interpretation.

“Is everything okay?” Her wide eyes narrowed slightly with concern. “Alonso says he’s had a great time. Learned a lot.”

“Yes ma’am,” LeGrand took over. “He’s doing just fine. We came by to see if he’d like to join us for sort of a tennis camp dinner. Just the three of us, actually there’s a fourth in the car.”

Dee relaxed visibly. “That’s very kind of you. Please come in.” She stepped aside to make room for us to enter.

The temperature was about thirty degrees colder inside. I should have known the Cummings would have one of the few air-conditioned homes in the neighborhood.

“He’s back in his workshop. Let me show you the way.” Dee took us through a cozy front room which led directly into the kitchen and then through the back door.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, if we’re interrupting your dinner hour. We should have called ahead.” LeGrand kept up his patter.

“No, no. Not at all. I haven’t even thought about dinner, to tell the truth. Just got home from work. I was thinking Alonso and I would go out and get something to eat, but if he goes with y’all, I think I’ll just skip dinner. Had a big lunch.” She chuckled softly.

Alonso’s workshop was probably a garden shed at one point but it had been nicely redone with carpeting, wood panel walls, and a large window which let in plenty of light. There was a room air conditioner, so it was comfortably cool. A little television was mounted on the wall and the built-in shelves housed all kinds of expensive-looking tools and electronic equipment, neatly sorted from what I could tell. There was a wide counter where he appeared to be working on a project. He looked up, obviously a little more than surprised to see us. Dee went back in the house.

“Hey dude!” LeGrand acted like this visit was the most normal thing in the world. “Care to join us for dinner?”

There was no small talk leading up to the question. I guess he didn’t want to give Alonso a chance to think up an excuse. In retrospect, I was glad LeGrand came to the door with me because I was pretty much not even a factor after reintroducing myself to Dee.

“Umm . . . Uh,” I could see the wheels turning. “Let me ask my mom.”

“No problem. We’ll wait for you.” But what we actually did was follow him back into the house to make sure he’d say yes. I really just followed LeGrand’s lead.

“Ma, I—” he could hardly get two words out before Dee responded.

“Sure, you go on ahead and have a good time with your friends,” she said.

__________

Mai suggested Big Mama’s Fish House where we stuffed ourselves with fried fish, chicken fried steak, green beans, ham with gravy, grits, mac and cheese, hush puppies, and pecan pie. The three Musketeers did most of the talking, but that wasn’t surprising considering Alonso was in the company of two almost strangers and one complete stranger.